


The Eagle's Calling

by RayearthHikaru



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Love, Oneshot, Reader-Insert, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayearthHikaru/pseuds/RayearthHikaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't think a mighty eagle could fall for such a weak prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eagle's Calling

**Author's Note:**

> I always loved Altair, he's definitely a great character and I also liked his development in the first game.

You wonder how things have come to this point all of a sudden.  
How you ended up lying on the rough straw over the highest tower of Jerusalem, this warm and sculpted body between your thighs, pushing harder and harder inside of you.

You are struggling to keep your eyes opened due to the intense pleasure, but you want, you need, to watch every fantastic detail of the man above you; his dark eyes staring at you from under his white hood, exposed abs contracting in a delightful way with every thrust, sculped chest and biceps, the Assassin robes loosened around his body.

And his voice is marvelous as well, filing your ears and heart with its exciting groans.

His sharp weapons are discarded on the tower's floor, apart from the hidden blade still secured around his left arm and wrist, threatening and ready to strike at any time.

Your pants and boots were previously thrown next to his blades, your tunic opened as the hood fell down releasing your locks. Your chest, covered by some compression bandages, now free from any obstacle and completely at his mercy.

“Shouldn't you- ahhh! Go back to... Masyaf...?” You ask him, talking extremely difficult considering the situation you are in.

“Later,” he answers with another moan. “I'm still not done with you.”

How is it even possible that things between the two of you have evolved in this manner?

You had just completed all your tasks, deciding to enjoy the magnificent sunset view before heading back home from the highest spot in town, where any guard could reach you and try to stab you with a sharpened sword or hit you with countless arrows shot from a bow.

At some point, a cold, short blade was pressed on your throat from behind, but not enough to cut your thin skin. You felt a hand grabbing your side possessively and a hot breath on your neck despite the hood you were wearing.

You knew who it was, you always recognized his presence.

 _“I caught you,”_ he had whispered mischievously, sure you were that he was simply mocking you again for your poor senses.

And then, the unexpected happened.

With a quick movement he had turned you in his arms, dark eyes - partially hidden behind his Assassin attire - locked on your face with determination. Then, without giving you the time, nor the strength to properly react, he had captured your lips with his in a firm, hungry and passionate kiss.

And you ended up in the straw, half naked, having sex with the last person you thought would ever touch you.

You couldn't know that he, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, once Master Assassin and now back to the novice state due to his impulsive attitude which recently screwed up an important task, was actually attracted to someone like yourself. He, the cold and impassibile killer, who never missed the chance to criticize you because you are not fast enough, not strong enough, not tough enough. According to him, at least.

And now he's having an intimate moment with you, something that you didn't know to wish as much.

You admire him. Despite the received punishment and even if you should consider him like an actual novice now, you can't deny his skills when it comes to an assassination. Altaïr is probably the most agile, fast and suitable to carry the hidden blade on his left arm, ring finger missing as a clear proof.

The way he used to treat you never really bothered you, though... because you didn't take his reproaches, even if a bit harsh, as an attempt to crack you up. On the contrary, Altaïr was only trying to spur you on, silently welcoming your positive attitude and all in all the way you playfully answered back. 

You often pointed out the fact that he doesn't practice what he preaches, considering the great Master doesn't even know how to swim.

But how are you supposed to judge his actions now? Is what you two are making a romantic act, or just a one-time thing with no meaning at all?

You feel as if an invisible hand was squeezing your rampant heart. You don't want this to be his only way to let off steam, releasing his labors and frustration on your body. 

Right here and now, with the wonderful sky painted with a mixture of gold and orange and the majestic eagle repeatedly flying over the tower, you want to be with Altaïr. Fully.

You want him for what he is, bad temper or not. It took you years to realize that you actually love him... but oddly, you are not as surprised as you should be.

Perhaps a part you already knew the truth hidden in your soul. 

“ Altaïr...” his name escapes your lips when he adjusts himself, putting your quivering thighs around his supportive waist. 

You instantly cross them against his lower back to feel him even deeper inside of you.

“Yes,” he says with that thrilling voice of his, slightly hoarse for the energic thrusts. “Say my name.”

Your hands, kept motionless since the act has begun, find their way on his slightly sweaty chest and the grunt of appreciation that reverberates against your palms encourages you to continue. Your fingertips trace small paths along his wonderful skin, outlining his well defined muscles with a gentle touch. You feel his erection twitch into your body, pace slowing down as he catches his breath.

How beautiful he is, with this battle-scarred body that demands for more. Your hands explore it, passing on his contracted abs and past the sides, to then stop on his strong back, fingernails digged into his skin.

You can feel the tickling of the straw on your neck, some of it in your hair as Altaïr possesses you with incredible force. His thrusts make you joilt and you call his name, again and again, prompting him to go even faster.

You love the rough scar on the left part of his mouth, which crosses those inviting parted lips in a vertical line. You also love the way he stares at you, so intense and magnetic, your own face reflected in those two dark gems in the shade.

And then, realization hits you like a powerful punch. You have never seen his face entirely, always partially hidden behind the common Assassin hood he wears all the time. Now, in such an intimate moment, would you claim a bit too much if you asked him to finally show himself? 

He probably wouldn't... yet, you are dying to know how the great Altaïr looks like without his attire.  
And you have to see it now that he's vulnerable enough, before it all ends. 

Carefully, you leave his back (now even more scratched than it used to be) and take a hold of the only part of robes left untouched, looking at him with a slight hesitation and waiting for any kind of reaction. 

He stops, fingerless gloved hands supporting your legs. Though you can't really decipher his gaze, the Altaïr you know is quite reserved and would surely prevent you from doing anything if he found it inappropriate. Therefore, very slowly, you push his hood back a little bit, as the light of the setting sun finally rests on his tanned skin.

When you're sure that he's not going to protest, you push the hood out of the way completely. You can't describe the happiness you feel once the annoying thing is finally removed, revealing short black hair and the most beautiful face a man could wish for.

Altaïr surprises you with another kiss thrusting in you again. It is not as sloppy and passionate as before, but rather soft and almost... loving.

And it makes you feel more alive than ever.

His tongue is gentle, his taste intoxicating and his skilled fingers just too much to handle when they find the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, his throbbing meat slipping in and out of you at a steady pace. 

You scream his name, which you're sure is echoing throughout Jerusalem. 

When Altaïr, finally satisfied, places another soft kiss on your neck and collarbone, your mind wanders between many questions probably destined to ramain unanswered. 

“I don't understand,” he says out from nowhere, his forehead pressed against your naked chest.

Unconsciously, you encircle his broad shoulders with your tender arms. “What do you mean...?”

“I've killed those men because Al Mualim told me it had to be done. Nevertheless, they all truly believed in their words and intentions, no matter how wrong they were.”

You silently listen to him, stroking his damp nape with a light touch of your fingers.

“What is hiding behind all of this? What if I'm taking a blunder?”

Since when Altaïr talks about his assassinations with you so freely? If you weren't hearing it with your ears you would hardly believe it.

“Altaïr, are you feeling guilty for your victims...?”

It cannot be.

“...I don't know. I shouldn't feel like this.”

The tasks he is completing in order to redeem himself, not only are helping him to retrieve the grade his mentor took away, but they also are changing his inner self in a way you don't comprehend. He doesn't sound like the arrogant, insensibile and impulsive Assassin you know, or knew in this case... For the first time in years, Altaïr is laying bare all the weaknesses that you almost believed inexistent.

“You are just human,” you then state, trying to control your bloodstream when his fingers brush along your lower lip with a delicate touch. “Being an Assassin doesn't necessarily mean that we have to be heartless.”

He seems to consider your words for a brief moment and you can't resist the urge to stare at his perfect jawline and the sexy stubble along his face. A shuddering sigh shakes your exposed body when he cups your cheek with his right hand, you close your eyes and lean on his palm whereas a pleasant feeling of warmth spreads in your chest.

“Altaïr,” you say weakly, your voice so small for no apparent reason. “What am I for you, exactly...?”

Your question, so simple and yet so unexpected, catches you both by surprise. Altaïr doesn't say a word, staring at you with his usual undefined look. You wait, hopeful, for an answer that clearly will never come. 

You give up, eventually. “Okay,” you whisper, eyes suddenly burning for the forming tears. “Forget it.”

He's right about you. You are miserable, definitely not strong enough and totally unsuitable to cover the Assassin role. Now that two wet streams flow along your flushed cheeks, you question your current position in the order and even yourself.

“Come on,” you chuckle. “Aren't you going to remind me how weak I am?”

This is what the old Altaïr would certainly do, standing up and putting his clothes back on. He would tell you how pitiful you are settling his weapons one by one around his belt, before leaving you on this tower, naked and alone, to brood over your weaknesses and lack of skills.

But the man between your legs responds with another soft kiss placed on your right cheekbone, what he tells you afterwards sounds like a bolt from the blue. 

“I cannot swim.”

You stare at him in confusion, not sure about the functionality of your hearing anymore. “Sorry?”

“Isn't it what you tell me all the time?”

The trace of a smile appears over his lips for the very first time, his mouth corners raising up almost imperceptibly.

“Yes,” you smile back. “It is.”

Talking bluntly about his weak point, Altaïr is admitting – more to himself - that he, contrary to what he once claimed, is not perfect either.

“I want you by my side,” he then says, fingers tracing a soft line on the sensitive skin of your neck. “If this is the answer you were looking for.”

You feel as if a huge burden had just been removed from your shoulders. “Although I didn't think an eagle could fall for such a weak prey... yes, it is.”

_“Nothing is true, everything is permetted.”_

He lays down on you again instead of preparing to return to Masyaf, right where you are supposed to be as well. Even if the last thing you want is the mentor to punish you and Altaïr for the second time, you wrap your arms tightly around the man, cheek pressed against your chest and hands on your sides, , slightly scratched from the rough straw beneath you. You will face the consequences of your actions at the right time, for now you feel like staying embraced to him is the only thing you need.  
In this wonderfully silent atmosphere, only broken by the sweet call of the eagle which echoes in the golden sky from time to time, you brush your lips on his warm forehead.

“Indeed,” you answer, your own breath in unison with his.


End file.
